Glorious Nymphs
by Rune-Spirit
Summary: The Basterds never depended on anyone before, let alone three young sisters. But with the aftermath of the basement, they find that if one girl can change you, three can turn your world upside down. Stiglitz/OC
1. The Aftermath

R_S: Seriously, I am absolutely in LOVE with this movie. This was a little plot bunny that was hoppin around my head so I started writing the story in bits and pieces. Once I had about 15 pages of bits I was like hmm… if I don't post this I'm def never going to finish it, so what the hell.

So there are three OCs in this story, sisters as mentioned in the summary, whom you will find out about later. This will be Stiglitz/OC definitely, some Hellstrom/OC as well. Possibly Aldo/OC, if you guys want. Like I said, I just have bits and pieces and I have to string them together so you guys can feel free to make requests. I can't guarantee they'll make it into the story, but I'll try.

Anyway, it's pretty much just the Basterds in this chapter. I'm gonna try not to make it OOC, so lemme know if you have suggestions. Thanks!

**Chapter 1**

**The Aftermath**

American First Lieutenant Aldo Raine was pissed. No, pissed wasn't the right word for it. He was pissed before, now he was ready to punt a fucking puppy and strangle the bitch that got his men and him into this mess. She could have politely declined the drunken soldier, sent him back to his friends so the four of them could force down their drink and take their leave. But no, von Hammersmark had to let Hicox take over and fuck the entire operation. They were lucky. His men had been prepared for conflict, but the real German soldiers were caught unaware. Hicox was killed in the uproar, but Raine could give a rat's ass what happened to him. A bitter part of him wished the blond bitch had taken the fall too, retribution for making them fight in a basement. But she and his men were only injured, something he was secretly quite thankful for. She was proving to be more helpful now that she had botched everything up than when she thought she had things under control, although she was loathe admitting that any of what happened was her fault. Still, she readily supplied information about the premier's new location and Hitler's planned attendance. Of course, that helpfulness only stretched so far: all their intelligence was obsolete. As soon as the Reichstag heard the Basterds were in Paris, the film premier was cancelled and the place flooded with excess angry soldiers. If there were a lot of Nazis in Paris before, they swarmed like rats now. Their contact was frustrated and no longer as pleasantly compliant, if she ever had been, but nonetheless she covered their tracks and advised them well.

"Head south," she told them, "they expect you to head north to Germany in order to cause more trouble or west to make your escape off shore to Britain. Instead head south to the emergency contact near Montoire. I'll meet you there."

Making it from Paris to Montoire should have been a two, three day trip maximum. But with two of his men injured it took twice as long, nearly a week to reach the hideout beneath a dingy bar. By the time they got there, Bridget von Hammersmark was already waiting with further instruction from their contacts. While Wicki and Stiglitz were propped up on makeshift beds and further treated, she filled the soldiers in. Operation Kino was officially kaput; the Basterds were not to attempt to make their way into another film premier. But once again the blond bombshell was determined to make herself indispensable through the use of military intelligence.

"Rest up here until for a while and then head further south toward the Aquitaine region, near Spain. Franco won't officially enter the war, but he's certainly offering support to the Nazi powers. Every so often he invites important politicians of the Reich to vacation at his home. Rather than sitting as an open target in the water or drawing attention to themselves by plane, they often travel through France so the forest and mountains can offer cover. That's where you can intercept them. It won't be as grandiose as Operation Kino, but you'll still be able to take out some major players."

"Well that's mighty convenient," Aldo drawled, adjust his slouched position in the seat beside Stiglitz's calculating form, "'cept you haven't mentioned when they're headin' down there."

She only rolled her eyes in annoyance, scratching her knee above the cast, "That's because I don't know yet, _they_ don't even know yet. They're still wrapping up the Nation's Pride debacle, so it might be a bit longer before they take any time off. It'll be a big game of hurry up and wait, but the rewards should make it worth your while. Besides, it'll offer time for your men to heal." She punctuated her sentence by lighting her cigarette, which she prepared during her little speech, and throwing a pointed look at the injured German beside him. Stiglitz's face remained impassive, but she could swear his eyes hardened into a glare as he stared her down. She thought it was a shame he was a psychotic Basterd, he was quite handsome and in another life she could have been attracted to him. Now, however, she simply thought of him as one of these disgusting, filthy soldiers.

"If they're going down to Spain the same way they're gonna come up, why can't we just do this the quick way n' pick them off when they leave France?" Donny demanded, stomping over from the corner and pointing an accusatory finger. Aldo raised an eyebrow as a soft murmur of agreement spread across the room. Stiglitz narrowed his eyes at the raucous Bear Jew's vulgar interruption. And for her part, von Hammersmark simply scoffed and blew out some more smoke.

"Because, Franco will send troops to accompany the Reich down to his estate; they always go directly there with his military escort. On the way back up, however, they are hesitant to return to work and responsibility, and they take their time, stopping in various villages and cities along the way to sample the French culture and women. They will be more heavily guarded on their way to France, as well as expected to appear at a certain time. The return trip will only have slovenly enlisted men, and it may even be days before anyone realizes they've missed any appointment. The OSS has already approved the assignment. They're calling it Operation Leisure."

Aldo sniffed, "Name might be god awful but y' can't argue with that logic. Si'down, Donny." Donowitz glared at the contact suspiciously, but returned to his spot in the corner. From there von Hammersmark and the Basterds discussed a few other aspects of the new mission before she took her leave to return to Germany. Apparently the majority of her work for the OSS was finished, and she was to begin shooting a new film.

Now if things had stayed that simple, Aldo would not have minded. He and his men might not have been the most patient gentlemen alive, heck they were probably the _least_ patient gentlemen alive and most of the time they weren't even gentlemen, but they had a fairly good set-up. Their hide-out beneath the sleazy bar was little more than a filthy glorified speak-easy, but they were sheltered and relatively safe to rest and heal. They even snagged the occasional drink from upstairs. Unfortunately, life is just never that simple. A few days later a German platoon stopped into town and decided that the upstairs bar was a favorite hang-out. The proprietor was none too disconcerted by this and asked the Basterds to leave. It was just as well, Aldo figured; staying in the middle of a town swarming with Nazis he wasn't allowed to kill while his two injured men healed was probably a bad idea. So even though most of his men weren't happy about it, especially Donny, they packed up all the medicine they could carry and stowed away from the town. They headed south, as per Fraulein von Hammersmark's instructions, and slowly made their way toward the southern border. About fifty kilometers from the Spanish border, they found a convenient wooded cave in the mountains where they made their camp. The trip should have only taken a week, but once again the travel time had more than doubled to a little over two weeks. By the time they got there Wicki and Stiglitz were in worse shape, if that was even possible, and they had no connection to German intelligence. All in all, Aldo figured he and the Basterds were pretty fucked. And that brought him to where he was, sitting in a cave and plotting Bridget von Hammersmark's murder via strangulation. His men were tired and cranky, there wasn't enough food, and they were running out of cigarettes. Stiglitz was healing, but he might have been developing a slight infection. He was in a great deal of pain, even if he tried to hide it behind his stoic façade. Wicki, however, definitely had an infection and was fighting off a fever. He would slip in and out of consciousness and sometimes lucidity. Today, however, luck seemed to be on their side. Wicki was awake and coherent, and Stiglitz genuinely seemed to be in less pain than usual and not just hiding behind masculinity. The men were loitering around, playing dice and silently existing. The tension and desire to get back into action was palpable, and Aldo just wished he knew a local contact so he touch base with the OSS and find out just what the fuck was going on. More than that, he wished they just knew exactly where the fuck they _were_. They were near a tiny village just outside Pau, that they knew. On a clear day, if they looked up the small mountain the cave was on, they could see in the distance a large white manor sitting at the top. They didn't know who lived there or what was going on, just that they were going to need help very soon.

"Hey Wicki," Kagan called from the other side of the cavern, "you awake?" They each took turns babysitting the injured men, and today was Kagan's day to watch them. Stiglitz wouldn't accept much help, but Wicki needed to be checked for cognizance and clarity every so often.

"No," he shot back with a grin, "I'm dreaming about fucking your sister." The Basterds shared a laugh at their friend's expense and he pouted, mumbling about how he was only trying to help.

"Aw now don't feel to bad, Kagan," Donny laughed, clapping a heavy hand on the younger man's shoulder, "he's only picking on your sister 'cause he's afraid to go after your mom. She loved me so much he don't think he can please her as well as I did." This earned a fresh bout of laughter from the group and a glare from the private.

"Yeah, well maybe one of these days someone'll give your mom a pity fuck, since that's the only way she'll ever get any."

Just as a fight was about to break out between the two, Stiglitz silenced them suddenly. Faintly, two male voices could be heard approaching. After spending so much time in the country, most of the men had picked up some bits and pieces of the language here and there. None were anywhere near fluent; some could barely pronounce a single word, although Wicki and Stiglitz seemed to have a good ear for it even though proper pronunciation escaped them. Still, the Basterds had mastered the art of picking up important details from eavesdropping on conversations. If the weren't discovered, this could serve to be the connection to the outside world they had been waiting for. Slowly the men pushed themselves against the walls and floors of the cave, guns clutched tightly, and peered out at the approaching figures. They were two young men, probably in their late twenties or early thirties. One was taller and gangly, though obviously younger, with messy brown hair and a hunting rifle clutched in his hands. The other was a stocky blond with his gun over his shoulder clutching a few rabbits. The two men collapsed onto a log just beneath the cave, panting. As the tall one took a swig from the canteen, the blond spoke.

"_We can't go any farther up, that's passing onto someone else's property. So what do you think of it down here compared to up near Paris? Better hunting, no?_"

His friend laughed, passing him the canteen, "_Absolutely. But not as many beautiful women, I'm afraid. Or have I just missed them?_"

"_No, I'm afraid most of the good ones are taken. There used to be Michelle Allard, but now she's Michelle Michaud, and if you start making eyes at my wife I'll have to kill you._" The men shared a laugh before he continued, "_As for single girls… Genevieve Babineaux is rather lovely, I think._"

"_And from what I understand, so does half the town. And if she's the town beauty, I think I may have to head back north!_"

"_Oh I never said she was the town belle, I just said that she was pretty. No, that title actually goes to a newcomer. An __**American**__ if you can believe it!_"

"_What?! Man, you're full of shit._" His friend couldn't believe it, and for that matter neither could the Basterds. They each shared a look, stringing the words 'beauty,' 'American,' and 'girl' together and wondering what a pretty American girl was doing in Nazi occupied Germany.

"_No, it's true. She's our neighbor, owns the land up the mountain, from that ridge on._" He turned and gestured to the ground just beneath the mouth of the Basterds' cave. The soldiers froze and clutched their guns even tighter as the two men looked, but thankfully they couldn't see the hiding men past the protruding root covered in leaves. Still, they were starting to gather that perhaps they were on the pretty American's land.

"_Well,_" the man continued, "_she and her sisters own it. There are two of them, each sort of pretty in their own way. But she's something else entirely. They live alone up there, just the three of them._"

"_Oh now the suspense is killing me,_" the brown haired man glanced back up the mountain at the house on the peak, "_now I'm dying to know about the sisters. Don't leave me hanging, Guillaume. What do they look like?_"

"_Well, the oldest is Celia. She's tall and thin, hard looking with wavy brown hair and icy blue eyes that'll cut right through you. Some of the men in the village think she's ugly because she has two scars on the left side of her face, one on her upper lip and one on her eyebrow. But I think she's the second prettiest sister, in an intimidating kind of way. She's rather standoffish and unpleasant, a no-nonsense kind of woman. It's kind of sexy!_" the men shared a laugh, and the brunette teased him momentarily, comparing his description of Celia to his wife's docile nature.

"_The middle sister, Phoebe, I don't think is all that pretty. She's not quite as tall as Celia, but more willowy looking and rather homely I think. She's got this unusually colored blond hair and blue eyes like her sister, but they're not icy or calculating in the same way. She's kinder and a lot tamer, that's certain. She's as resigned as Michelle but without the charm._"

"_And the third one? Is she the belle de la ville you keep talking about?_"

Guillaume nodded, "_Yes, the youngest: Rosa. Her sisters are pretty, but she's absolutely __**gorgeous**__. She has Celia's hair, but none of her disposition. She's the smallest and the sweetest, with big gold eyes like a baby deer. Full pink lips, rosy cheeks, a smile that can light up a room… and she's much better endowed than her sisters._" With a cheeky grin, he made the outline of a woman's curves in the air and the two shared a loud laugh at the raunchy joke. The Basterds were trying to figure it out. So far they had caught a brief description of three sisters, Celia, Phoebe, and Rosa, though they didn't understand half of it, and they wondered how a Michelle fit into it.

"_Well with those beauties living all alone on the mountain, maybe I'll have to go up and offer my services._" The brunette waggled his eyebrows and laughed, but his friend did not share his mirth.

"_In all seriousness, I wouldn't recommend it. Celia chased away Rosa's last suitor with a shot gun. I don't think she really knows how to use it, but still the threat's there. It seems the princess will stay locked away in her ivory tower._" The only word the Basterds caught there was gun, which worried them slightly and piqued their interest.

"_Huh… what are they doing here anyway?_" Getting up, Guillaume stretched.

"_I don't know the whole story but I'll tell you what I do know on the way back home. If I don't get these rabbits back early enough, Michelle will have a fit about cooking them._" To the Basterds' disappointment, the two men took their leave before they could get all the details they wanted, laughing about married life the whole way. The soldiers waited a few minutes to speak, making sure the men were far enough from earshot that they would not be discovered. The group quickly then compared what they were able to make out in order to piece together a more complete understanding of the situation. They were not able to catch everything, but most had caught the gist of it. Three beautiful sisters owned the land they were currently hiding on, and despite the fact that they apparently had a gun, this was the first good new they had heard in a long while.

"Well gentlemen," Aldo drawled, "What d'ya make of it?" Stiglitz grunted, lighting up a cigarette.

"All we gotta worry about are three broads," Donny shrugged, "we really lucked out."

Wicki nodded in agreement, voice thin with pain, "We should definitely remain on their property as a base, it's much safer, but…"

"We should move to higher ground to avoid the neighbors when they go a-huntin' so it don't become Basterd season, yer right." Aldo finished the corporal's thought with a nod, "We'll move out tonight and find some place to sit tight away from huntin' surrender monkeys. Don't think we gotta worry about them little ladies taking us down, so we should be fine. From there we can figure out how we can make contact with base, at least we'll have a safe camp."

"I still wanna know what the hell three little American girls are doin' in Nazi territory." Donny demanded loudly.

Aldo nodded sagely, "So do I, Donny, so do I."

**End of Chapter**

R_S: Not great but not terrible, I think. One of those annoying yet necessary chapters to move things along and set the scene… lemme know what you think! =)


	2. Lovely Lorelei

R_S: Ok, def not going to be the best chapter in this story. It's one of those gritty necessary chapters that's no fun to write but get the plot to where it needs to be.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

**Lovely Lorelei**

Moving the Basterds uphill proved to be only slightly more difficult than anticipated. They had the foresight to send Kagan, Utivich, and Hirschberg out ahead of time to scout the area and seek an equally sheltered but more conveniently situated location to set up camp. If there were no better shelters to be found, Raine decided, perhaps they were better off waiting it out in the cave. In fact, that was exactly what they were predicting would occur. Finding this nearly perfect cave by complete happenstance was a stroke of extreme luck, something they did not expect to see happening twice in a row. But the Basterds were pleasantly surprised. The privates had not only found a cave, but it was better than the one they were already set up in. It was about three quarters of the way from where they were to the big white house on the peak, a bit too close for their liking, but the soldiers excitedly assured their commanding officer that the amenities the grotto offered more than made up for its placement. Intrigued by his men's sudden excitation, Aldo decided to accept the new position and move his men out. They packed up and left late in the morning, and it took nearly two hours for the Basterds to move their injured German comrades to the new makeshift bivouac.

Before long, the men had come upon it, the most beautiful site one had ever laid eyes on; the clearest, cleanest pool of liquid diamond shining in the antemeridian sun, surrounded by wild flowers of all variety bursting forth in a richness of vivid rainbow. Oaks and maples stood above, ivy winding a crooked path around their limbs and spread across in low hanging forest canopy to catch the golden beams resonating from the morning star above. From the ascending mountainside, some rocks jutted out to create a small waterfall that did not disturb the far side of the pond. For a moment the men stopped, surprised to find this delicate oasis in the midst of a war-torn nation. They needed, of course, more than a pretty pond to make camp, they needed protection and cover. But it was easy to see why his men had fallen in love with the place despite their masculinity, and Aldo almost did not have the heart to chastise them for selecting a location based on aesthetic appeal as opposed to practicality… almost. That, however, turned out to be a nonissue. Just past the serene glade was a thickly wooded canopy, offering shelter and concealment to a hidden grotto that was large enough for the weary group to set up camp. It was comfortable, well hidden, and ideally located so that they were in the heart of the unwitting girls' property and could easily flee there from the water…though the Basterds would never flee, of course, just rapidly seek a more hidden area that they preferred, coincidentally at the same time someone might spot them. So, they swiftly settled into their new hideout.

Now they could spread out Wicki and Stiglitz so that hopefully their injuries would heal well, although that was getting seemingly less and less likely. They probably only needed some simple antibiotics that anyone could get to curb the infection and make his men well, but they simply did not have enough. The only men who spoke German and could walk into town undercover to get more supplies were the very ones too incapacitated to go. It was frustrating for them, especially their leader. He tried hard to be good to his men, tough but fair. War was no time for sensitivity, but he did want to be on the rest of the Basterds' good sides. Still, there was little he could do to ease the suffering of his comrades. The men did not hold it against him; they knew it was by no fault of his own that they were in this position, no fault of anybody's own. Well, if they absolutely _had_ to pin the blame on someone, Hicox and von Hammersmark seemed appealing… he blew their cover so they had to fight in her poorly selected basement. But all the blaming of their English and German contacts did not serve to heal his men or alleviate the stress he was feeling. Damn, he would feel a lot better if he was getting to kill someone evil, preferably a Nazi, but there were no krauts in the area and they were under strict orders from the OSS to lay low. Now Raine did not often like following orders, but this time his gut was telling him that to do so would behoove him far more than any instant gratification he sought possibly could. Aldo Raine was not a religious man, and very rarely a spiritual one, but when he felt the spirits speak to him, he could not deny it. And they certainly had. On the way up to the new cave, they walked by a stream, which further down the mountain would widen into a river. Creeping upon the bank was a beaver couple, pausing to observe the travelling men. The beavers did not come closer or scatter with fear, but observed calmly from a comfortable distance, making eye contact with the Apache before slipping away silently. That was a sign from the gods, beavers representing up coming great lessons of life that will bring many blessings of strength, security and trust to the Apache people. He was making the right decision leading his men here, he was sure of it.

Or he had been sure of it, three days ago. But a lot can change in three days, not the least of which being his men's deteriorating health and morale. The move uphill had exacerbated their wounds. Stiglitz spoke even less now than perhaps even when they first met him, if that were possible, all his energy funneled into disguising his uneasy pants, breathing belabored by pain. Wicki had not been fully conscious or coherent since before the move, and now slipped in and out of English and clarity. The novelty of their new position had worn off quickly when they learned that sound between the grove and the house travelled freely. They often heard the soft murmur of a woman's voice, sometimes as close as the pond. It excited his men, he could tell, who had not seen or been with a member of the fairer sex in quite some time, but it terrified them too. The Basterds quickly figured out it was a favorite place for one of the sisters to spend her time, though which they were not sure. They had never seen any of the girls or even heard their voice with any clarity, but hid away in their despair-filled cavern. It was a solemn time for the men, who had once been so jovial in their pursuance of redemption. It was degrading to hide away from women in fear, but what could they do? Tonight a heavy fog licked at the mouth of the cave, fought off by the smoke of their fire. The rain came suddenly, pounding down in a heavy sheet, a constant hissing that dulled the sense. The night was black, the silhouettes of the trees just barely visible against the sky, light only found with the crack of thunder. Tonight, Raine thought to himself, would be the turning point. Tonight his men would live or die. It was a sobering thought, one that left a sour taste on his tongue, but it was true. Death was a necessity of war, and he had to be prepared to accept that his men would either survive the ordeal or not even survive the night. He had not seen the beaver again since that day.

Before the rain had come, when only fog and harsh winded threatened even the cover of the cave, he watched his men. Staring to the far back he saw Donny, glaring in thought at his bat as he held it, feeling the weight of the once smooth wood in his hands. He looked more travel weary sitting in the dark than he ever had when the crossed through France. To his left sat most of his men, Ulmer, Hirschberg, Kagan, Zimmerman, and Sakowitz, playing poker with browned, ripped cards and rocks for chips. None of them looked all that interested in it or happy when they won. And to his right, Utivich was perched between the German soldiers, helplessly trying to make sense of anything Wicki said. He seemed somewhat better than earlier, no longer making random gurgles and murmuring in German. Now he was at least speaking to Utivich and in English, though the little man could not make heads or tails of what he was saying until Stiglitz explained. The stoic man informed them, in a tortured tone, that he was blaming his ailment on various German myths and folklore. His arms swiped helplessly with listless movements, trying to knock the Mortriden off of him and end his nightmares. Calming him down, he spent the rest of the evening speaking in riddles and talking to the other men about German creatures as though they would know, how he would marry a Moss Maiden in his next life.

"Melusina is crying for her children," he mumbled, "crying for me… for my death…" A harsh wind blew, putting out the fire, and Raine cursed angrily.

"Someone get that fire goin' 'gain 'fore we all freeze t'death! Zimmerman, Sakowitz, get off yer lazy asses n' fix this!" The privates scrambled to do as ordered, but had little luck. A sharp thunder crack and the rain came, as though someone were dumping water from a bucket over the earth.

As the other men jumped, Wicki laughed softly from his place, "I am going to die tonight."

Utivich looked lost, "No way, Wicki, you're doing fine. Things will be fine."

"No… I'm dying… A Nixie has come to lead me away, death beckoning me with a Rhine Maiden…"

"A Nixie?" the American looked to the other European in confusion, but his eyes were shut, chin tucked against his chest with jaw clenched in pain as a hand rested upon his wound. Just as the pain passed, allowing Stiglitz to open his eyes and turn to answer, Wicki continued ignorantly, unwittingly clarifying himself.

"Were I a well man I would be tempted by the siren… alas, lovely Lorelei, I cannot come to you… but look how the rain has left you soaked to the bone-" he was cut off by a string of German curse words from Stiglitz, his eyes trained in anger at the mouth of the cave behind Raine. The Lieutenant flipped around just as Utivich looked over and gasped, just as a flash of lightening struck illuminating the mouth of the cave. There she was- the siren his soldier described stood before him, no more than a yard away, undoubtedly the beautiful sister that lived on the mountain. She stood shivering at the mouth of the cave, paralyzed with fear. Her dark hair was plastered to her face, skin slick with water and coated with goose bumps. Her simple little blue and white dress clung to her tiny form, just short of transparent against her soft curves, with shapely legs leading out in a wide stance. He lifted his gaze, sliding past her softly pointed chin, full red lips pulled down in horror, and her cute button nose that reminded him of a bunny or a mouse or perhaps a kitten, and met her wide, fearful eyes. She looked young all wet, like little more than a child, but he knew she must have been older. She wore her innocence well, and she had beauty and grace beyond her years despite the fact that she could not have been past her mid twenties. By now all the men were watching her stand there, shaking like a scared bunny as her eyes searched around wildly. Raine lifted his hand to her and her eyes fixated on him, widening slightly. He took a tentative step forward.

She bolted.

In no time at all he was upon her, wrapping an arm around her waist to lift her from the ground and a hand over her mouth to silence her before the discarded book could hit the ground. She thrashed wildly in his grip, screams muffled by the thickness of his hand. Aldo only tightened his grip, pulling her back into the cave where Zimmerman and Sakowitz hurriedly resurrected the fire so they could see. She was light, barely weighing anything, and soft, and the way the firelight caught her eyes made them look like pure liquid honey or gold. He was a respectable man but a man nonetheless, one who had not been with a woman in quite some time, and he noticed the way his arms fit tightly around his tiny waist as she squirmed against him, fighting like a wild animal. She had to stop this. She was only a child compared to him, young enough to be his daughter he figured, and he felt rather inappropriate holding her so.

"Would you stop slitherin' n' quiet down," Raine snapped, dragging her near the fire so his men could form a circle around them, "I ain't gonna hurt ye!" She stopped, panting heavily and eyes searching around in wild terror. Everything was quiet except for the rain's heavy beating and Wicki's low demented chuckling. A sharp thunder clap made her whimper pathetically, tears slipping softly from her eyes. The poor little thing was terrified, and with good reason. She was helpless, surrounded by men without any idea of what they were going to do to her. The southerner felt for her, he really did.

"Now I'mma take my hand of yer mouth, but you gotta promise me ye ain't gonna scream. Can ye do that?" Aldo spoke calmly, and the girl hesitated for a moment but nodded, "Ok." Slowly he allowed his hand to slip from her face and even loosened his hold on her slightly as there was no threat in the current situation. As she looked around, she licked her lips, fighting to settle her breathing. The men watched her carefully, taking in how tiny but well formed she was. She really was beautiful, smooth pale skin and cheeks flushed with fear. Everything about her seemed dainty, yet she was voluptuously endowed. As his commanding officer spoke, Private Andy Kagan wondered if perhaps they had been visited by an angel.

"Now calm down, Princess… What's yer name?" her lips floundered a bit, opening and shutting as she tried to find her voice.

"R-Rosa." Her voice was soft, high and delicate. Raine nodded, giving her a pleasant smile.

"That's a mighty pretty name, Miss. You live here in these parts?"

She nodded shakily, "Y-yes, I live just up the mountain and this afternoon I was reading by the pond but I forgot my book and I came down to get it before the rain started so it wouldn't get ruined but I waited to long a-and, and…" she stopped herself, having rambled at a mile a minute much to the amusement of the men around her.

"Y-you're Americans… what are you doing here?"

A snort came from behind her, "What the fuck do you _think_ we're doing in enemy territory during a war?" She flipped around to face the big man with a yelp.

"Donny!" Raine's voice was reproachful, but he paid it no heed.

"Sir, as fascinating as these pleasantries are, we need to focus more on what the hell we're going to do about this. We can't just let her go. N' fuck, I dunno, we can't keep her… unfortunately." It was at this point Raine looked around and noticed that most of his men were staring at the little girl like men lost in a desert would stare at water. Donny was actually _leering_ at her. She shrunk back toward Raine, whining pitifully.

Raine glared at him, "Back off, Donowitz, yer scarin' the girl. N' ye don't cuss in front of a lady. 'Pologize." The Bostonian looked taken aback.

"What?!"

"You heard me, 'pologize to the little lady." The Bear Jew looked nonplussed, but did as he was told, "Thank ye, Donny. Now ye better behave yerself, that goes for all y'all." The men stopped staring at her like a piece of meat, and she calmed slightly. She turned, observing them all carefully before her eyes fell upon the two men in the corner.

"You're men are injured?" she asked watching them curiously. Donny muttered something under his breath about stating the obvious, and Raine shot him a glare as he answered her.

"The life of a soldier is a dangerous one, Miss." She nodded, still staring at them. She locked eyes with Hugo, startled by how vibrantly his blue eyes shined through the pain and darkness.

"Infected gunshot or knife wounds… They need antibiotics, like Prontosil." The soldiers exchanged looks of bafflement.

"How'd ye know that?"

She turned to him, still nervous, "My mother was a nurse during the great war… I-I don't know much, just from what she's told me in stories, but it's pretty obvious… I mean you're soldiers and he's delirious from infection…" she bit her lip and shyly met his eye, "We probably have some at the house, definitely some in the barn for the animals. I could get you some."

"Absolutely not," Donny interrupted, "sir, you can't let this little bitch run off and rat us out to the Nazis. She's full of shit!"

"Donny! Watch yer mouth or krauts'll be the least of yer worries!" Rosa looked scared.

"I-I didn't mean… Y-you can come with me! I mean, the humidity and the rain are probably making it worse, if you don't get them out of the dampness you might have to start worrying about a fungal infection as well. Carry them up to the house, or at least the barn, so they can keep warm and dry and I can see what we have. My sister's better at this stuff than I am, maybe she can help you too."

"Now no offense, Princess, but I'm sure y'can see how you wantin' to help us would seem mighty suspicious… Care to explain?"

"W-well you're American soldiers, so clearly you're here to get the Nazis out of France… right?" the men chuckled at her naïveté, as though everything was so simple, but nodded for her to continue, "So you're soldiers from my country, so of course I would help you."

"Still, yer livin' in Nazi occupied territories… doesn't seem mighty American t'me. Dunno if we want you helpin' us."

She pouted, "Well then don't let me do it for you; let me do it for my best friend back home. We got into a terrible fight before I left, and I feel like I owe her this."

He raised a brow, "Your best friend would want you to help us?" She stuck her chin up defiantly.

"Yes, I think Channa absolutely would." Their eyes met and they stared each other down for a moment before Raine sighed.

"Zimmerman, Ulmer, carry Wicki. Donowitz, you're helping Stiglitz." He stepped aside, throwing out his arm, "Lead the way, Princess."

**End of Chapter**

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R_S: Like I said, not great, a nitty-gritty necessity. Hope it wasn't too bad, though!


	3. Nurse

R_S: The newest chapter up. I tried to tone down Raine's accent a bit, as someone pointed out to me that it didn't quite fit his character. Thanks for all the great reviews!

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**Chapter 3**

**Nurse**

Rosa ran just ahead of the men, clutching the now near soaked book (which she had rescued from the ground as they left) tightly to her chest. Whether she was doing so out of youthful innocence or in a vain attempt to maintain some semblance of modesty in her ruined dress, the men were not certain. She looked back often to see if they were following, but their gaze never left her. She looked natural skittering around the trees, so tiny in comparison to the vast woodlands, like some sort of fairy sent to protect not only the land but the men as well. Her thin legs climbed through the mud, darting over rocks and roots effortlessly. Reaching the house should not take long, she assured them, and under normal circumstances it would not have. But the rain had left the ground soft, and they all found themselves caught in mudslides and being carried backward on slick leaves, even Rosa. Her dress was almost entirely transparent now, stained brown in a few places from ungraceful falls. Her book was ripped, though she seemed unwilling to part with it. The pages remained bent and crushed within her hands as she gripped it for dear life, obviously growing more scared in the desperateness of the situation.

"We're almost there," she called back, over the roaring pound of the rain, "our yard's just passed those tree-" she cut herself off with a yelp as her feet were swept out from under her in a small wave of mud, rocks, and fallen leaves and branches. From beside her, Aldo attempted to grab her arm, but the girl slid right past him and into Donny's legs. The Bostonian went down, and since he was practically keeping Stiglitz upright he came too, both landing in a crumpled heap with Rosa. She yelped slightly as Donny placed a giant hand on her side to gain leverage, but to her credit she still managed to maintain a somewhat level head as the Bear Jew lifted her to her feet with some annoyance at her helplessness. Taking Stiglitz's other arm, she helped to pick him back up before darting off ahead, this time careful to watch where she was going. It became easier once they reached the backyard, a mostly level grass field. Their eyes darted to the red barn nearby, wondering if they would be led inside there. Seeing their gaze she shook her head.

"No, come into the house. It's safer and we can treat them better there, or else the infection could get worse. Come on, through the back door to the kitchen. She led them across to the grand, looming white house and lifted a dripping hand to open the backdoor. It was unlocked. The men filed in after her, first Raine and Donny supporting Stiglitz, then Zimmerman and Ulmer carrying Wicki, and the rest followed. Rosa paused at the door that led into the house and turned to the Basterds, regarding them nervously as she bit her lip.

She pointed to Zimmerman and Ulmer carrying Wicki, "I guess you should put him on the table. The other one" she moved her finger to Donny and Stiglitz, "can sit next to him in one of the chairs, if he's able. I'm going to get some supplies, I'll be right back." Without waiting for confirmation, she darted through the door, leaving it swinging behind her. The men were silent for a few moments, mulling over their own thoughts on the situation with the rustling of their movement as the only sound. Stiglitz dropped into a chair clutching his wound as Wicki was laid on his back on the sturdy wooden table, eyes falling out of focus. After a minute or two of stillness, it was no surprise who broke the silence.

"Lieutenant, this is a bad idea," Donny growled, "We're in a house with three women we don't know-"

"Don't worry, Donny, I won't let them rape you." Raine smirked. The Jew's glare only deepened.

"Sir, I'm serious. For all we know she could be making a call to turn us in to the Gestapo or whatever other Krauts are lurking around as we speak. Forget supplies, she's run off to get the lynching rope!"

"Then it don't make no sense for her t'drag us all up here n' go on 'bout treatin' our men. She's too tiny t'handle a gun, n' she ain't got the stomach for violence anyway. She's just a silly little girl tryin' to help, no immediate risk in that. Stiglitz, y'all should take off your shirt so she can get a look at you. N' Donny, since you wanna be so god damn helpful today, you can help Wicki with his."

"I thought we weren't supposed to curse." The Bear Jew muttered.

"Well the lady's not present with us right now, is she? Help Wicki."

"I ain't undressing him! He can handle it himself." At this point everyone turned to look at the unconscious soldier on the table. "Well, if little Miss Rosa wants to be so helpful then she can handle it." Raine rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to chew out his second in command, probably with copious expletives, when Rosa came bursting in. She had obviously not _meant_ to burst in, but she had tripped upon reaching the door and fell unceremoniously through, just barely catching herself. She carefully dropped her armful of medical supplies on the counter by the sink and a pile of rags on the table by Wicki's foot. While collecting the medication she not had time to change, instead throwing a pea green sweater over her soaked, mostly translucent blue and white dress. Her hair was still hanging as a sopping wet curtain, but she quickly began to rectify that by tying it back with the hair tie on her wrist.

"You get everything you need, Princess?" Raine asked, leaning back against the opposite counter. She blushed and bit her lip uncertainly but nodded.

"I think so… I have some bandages and some rags to clean them up. I just need to boil some water," She grabbed a hanging pot as she spoke and let it fill in the sink as she lit the stove, "and then we can get them cleaned up and have a look." Turning off the water, she carefully hefted the pot onto the burner to allow it to heat.

"N' you got the meds you were talkin' about?"

Rosa nodded, "We don't have very much Prontylin left, but we had some M&B in the barn and with it I found some…" she picked up a long thin box from the table and read from it carefully, "topical Sulfacetamide lotion.(1) Aunt Adélaïde probably used it when Bessie had some sort of infection on her udder or something."

"Do you think it will help them?" Utivich asked uncertainly.

"It's worth a try. I don't know what else I can do." She answered honestly, looking genuinely apologetic to the men. Moving over next to Wicki, she rolled up her sleeves and began the work of locating his injury with a light blush painting her cheeks. Raine and his men watched her work, oddly curiously about the little slip of a thing that was so determined to rescue them. To be honest, he was not half as sure as he had made himself sound to Donowitz. Sure the girl was tiny, and yes, she did seem overwhelmingly nervous in their presence. But that was no basis to make the assumption that she and her sisters were no threat to them. He was relying on the fact that he saw that beaver couple on their way up the mountain, silly though it might be. The fact that he was putting his men in danger out of superstition sickened him a bit, but as far as Aldo so it was the least of three evils. They could have gone with the girl, as they did, and would now possibly be turned in or possibly be helped beyond measure. They could have let the girl go and done their own thing and would run the possibility of getting out of it unscathed or being turned in, found, and killed. Or they could have killed the girl and made their escape, something that was still not entirely eliminated as an option. As much as it was painful to admit to and be responsible for such cruelty, civilian casualties were an unavoidable evil of war. And Aldo was prepared, should the need truly arise, to kill this seemingly sweet, innocent young girl if it came down to it. She seemed nice, and he would not like it, but he would do it if need be. In fact, he was confident that any of his men would be able to eliminate the issue of the girl if any problem arose. None of them would be happy about it, because even if she turned them in she seemed to be truly a good person, but they would do what they needed to in order to survive. And the same went for her sisters. Sickened and yet oddly comforted by the fact that they could (and would) kill three innocent women to save their own skins, Raine leaned back to watch the so-called "belle de la ville" (oh yeah, he understood that part of what those frenchies were sayin') work. Even with the simple task of removing Wicki's shirt, she was focused. She constantly chewed her lower lip, probably as a result of nerves, making her already full set of lips even plumper. Her hands moved carefully and delicately, as though she was afraid that by opening his shirt she would injure the man further. She had very delicate, graceful hands with long piano fingers. Revealing his chest, she gazed doubtfully at the filthy wrappings by his shoulder.

"Wow these are dirty… can one of you gentlemen grab the scissors for me? They're in that top drawer." She gestured to the appropriate drawer and Kagan made quick work of fetching the requested object. "Thank you, sir." Taking the sheers, she sat carefully on one leg and inspected the bandages carefully to discern the best spot to start cutting.

"Shouldn't ya wait for the water to boil 'fore you go opening up his wound n' cleanin' it?" Raine asked, whipping out his snuff for a quick use. The girl looked slightly perturbed by this but answered him nonetheless.

"Um… well I figured since its so dirty it would be best to get it off of him as soon as possible… do you think I should wait?" He raised a brow in response, wondering why she was asking him what to do with such uncertainty.

He shrugged, "Whatever y'all think is best, you're the nurse." She flushed and opened her mouth but thought better and turned back to the soldier on the table. Removing the dressings turned out to be more difficult that anticipated, as it was stuck to some of the dried fluid that had been weeping out. The bullet wound was extremely infected, swollen and festering. It was on his chest beside his left shoulder, red and black with yellowish puss. The men winced and looked away. Rosa, with her up close vantage point, gagged slightly at the side of it, covering the lower half of her face with her forearm.

"Oh my…" she looked down, tears welling in her eyes, "There's um, there's nothing else I can do for him until the, um, the water's done boiling. I'll wash my hands and take a look at your other soldier." For the first time, she glanced over at the man sitting beside her and hid her blush as she made her way to the sink and washed up. It was a glorious view. He was a handsome man with an attractive chest, a _very_ attractive chest. And she was a young girl, so even in the direst of situations she could find time to appreciate someone so… aesthetically pleasing. This was especially true after the sight of that man's shoulder. Another shiver of nausea passed through her. God she hoped it was not as bad as that, she probably could not handle it. As it was, she had about as much a chance of helping that man as a fish had learning how to walk. She was essentially useless to them. With shaking hands, she dried off and approached the seated man with a warm smile.

"Alright, let me take a look." She perched herself beside him on the same seat as earlier, and carefully removed the dressings while trying to distract herself from the feel of her fingers brushing his sculpted abdomen. His came off much more easily, revealing a bullet wound much smaller than his comrade's on his right side. It was slightly swollen and red with just the slightest bit off something leaking out, and it probably had some fluid in it, but all things considered it would most likely not be all that difficult to treat… at least, comparably. It was probably quite painful, though. Getting an idea of how badly it hurt would probably offer some insight into how serious it was. Actually, she had no idea if that was true. But, she figured it would at least give her something to think about and make it look like she was actually helping.

"How badly does it hurt, Mr.…?" She trailed off, not certain how to address him and met his gaze. His eyebrows were drawn low, his sharp blue-grey eyes watching her with curious intelligence. She resisted the urge to shift nervously under his gaze, feeling as though he was looking straight through into her soul.

"Stiglitz." His voice was a deep, syrupy baritone with the subtlest lilt of an accent. She paused at this, eyebrows coming together as her mouth fell into a tiny 'o' of wonder.

"Yeah, he's German." Her gold eyes shot over to Raine as he explained, "Hugo Stiglitz- defected from German Defense Force and killed 13 Gestapo officers. Works with us now n' is damn good at killin' Natzis, if I do say so myself."

"Oh…" she nodded, slightly disconcerted at the description, and turned back to find the German staring intently at her. Rosa blushed and bit her lip at this, looking nervous, but did her best to smile at him. He stared straight into her eyes, expression never changing.

"Um… a pleasure, sir. So, Herr Stiglitz, how badly does it hurt?"

Donny snorted from his spot against the wall, "I wouldn't bother, he's never gonna admit it hurts. He likes to pretend he's more of a fucking badass than the rest of us." Stiglitz growled lowly at this, curling his lip slightly to bear his white teeth and finally tearing his eyes from Rosa's to glare in the Bear Jew's direction.

"Donowitz, language!" Raine barked, "You want me to make you wait outside? 'Pologize!" Donny muttered an apology, looking not at all sorry. But Rosa giggled lightly, feeling comforted by the normalcy of their bickering. It made her feel more like she was in a room full of people than a room full of trained killers. At the sound of her laughter her patient turned back, fixing his discerning gaze on her once more. She made a conscious effort to hide her fear and sent him a wry grin.

"Well I can tell just by looking it does, so tell me what kind of hurt it is and I'll know more. Is it hot and throbbing?" She asked it so innocently, cocking her head to one side, that most of the Basterds felt too mean and perverted to laugh. Donny laughed raucously, earning another sharp glare from his commanding officer. But looking around the room, she noticed that most of the men were trying to hide tiny grins of their own. Whatever was going on, it went right over her head, so she just turned back to meet Stiglitz's amused smirk. She pouted slightly; annoyed at being left out of what was evidently quite the amusing little joke.

"Well is it?" she demanded. He nodded, still smirking slightly.

"I suppose that's to be expected with the infection. Is there any other kind of pain I should be aware of?" He shook his head, dark smile finally starting to slip from his handsome features. As much as Rosa was annoyed, she was a little disappointed by this. He had a nice smile, even if it was mocking.

"Miss," Hirschberg called from near the stove, "the water's boiling."

She turned from the German's intense gaze and smiled at him, "Thank you. Could you please bring it over here and put it on the table?" He and Omar did as she asked as the girl grabbed the pile of rags from down the table and brought them to where she was sitting. When the water was placed beside her, she dipped a bit of the rag in and tested it on the inside of her forearm. The temperature, she decided, was about right, not that she had any idea what the proper temperature should have been. So dipping the entire thing in, she carefully wrung it out with a wince at the hotness of the water, and dabbed the wound in Stiglitz's side with the damp cloth. He winced in pain and clenched his teeth, grimacing.

Rosa pulled back and fixed him with a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry! I'll try to be fast, I promise." He stared back at her for a moment and nodded, and she set to work cleaning him up.

**End of Chapter

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(1) Around 1936, Prontylin became the first oral version of sulfanilamide by Bayer, a version of Prontosil which was the first commercially available antibiotic. M&B693 or sulfapiridine is an antibiotic no longer prescribed to humans but was used to successfully treat Winston Churchill's bacterial pneumonia in 1942. Topical Sulfacetamide lotion is often used to treat acne, rosacia, etc but I made a jump in the dark here and assumed it might be used on a cow's udder. I realize they might not actually use some of this to treat men injured in war, but I didn't want them to be like "Hey, look at this! We have a whole cabinet of antibiotics and medications that are meant to be used to treat bullet wounds!" This story is nothing if not unrealistic, but I'll try not to make it glaringly so.

R_S: Tadaaaaa!!! I was originally planning to introduce another one of the sisters in this chapter, but that didn't quite work out… Next chapter, though, I can (almost) promise! Leave a review, s'il vous plaite!


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